Telos
by plutospawn
Summary: A Carth Onasi origins story.
1. Chapter 1

There were not enough hours in the day. That had always been a popular saying in the Onasi household.

Popular for Mrs. Valara Onasi, certainly. Of course, it had been quite literal the past week with the move from Corellia to Telos, but such was life. She hadn't thought that one single hour would make such a horrible difference, but while it appeared simple enough to acclimate three boys to a new sleep schedule, she had the feeling that it would take longer for her to catch up.

While the lanterns dimmed and extinguished in nearby properties, Val stayed up and claimed the sound of the crickets made it impossible to sleep. It was downright surprising what could be accomplished with one extra hour if a body put their mind to it. A load of laundry, fiddling with the local produce to guarantee that next morning's breakfast wouldn't be a total disaster, patching up the hole in her youngest's trousers that she had dramatically declared, "I do not even want to begin considering what you had to have been up to in order to tear out the entire seat of your pants!"

Given the frantic, wide-eyed stare that garnered from Tam, Val was fairly sure she'd stick to her original statement.

Sometimes, it made her wonder if three girls would have been easier. Girls were supposed to break their father's heart and leave their dear old mother out of that equation. And if the desire to harm arose, girls supposedly would try to cut with words and not a pair of garden shears. Then again, judging from those beastly Durgen sisters a property over, maybe that was just a misconception.

Thankfully, none of her boys were old enough to start dating a Durgen just yet. Val was going to have to keep her fingers crossed for the time being, do her damnedest to raise them right and learn to keep her mouth shut in the instance that one of them did bring a Durgen into her home.

Now the Sobusks, they were nice. And the Reumars seemed like decent folk. Maybe she'd be able to arrange dinner with them sometime. One of her arguments for moving had been to avoid the cramped confines of the big cities in Corellia, but she hadn't anticipated how isolated and lonely Telos could feel. Especially when she was wide awake while everyone else slept.

On the upside, without the hum of engines and businesses open all 25 hours of the day, it was quiet. Quiet enough to hear little footsteps pad downstairs towards the kitchen and to further cement the belief that mother really did have eyes in the back of her head and knew everything you were thinking and planning on doing.

"Carth, what are you doing up at this hour?"

Immediately, the footsteps shuffled to a halt. "Maybe I'm Arod."

Val felt herself smiling. "You know Arod wouldn't bother sneaking around." And Tam would be so loud and clumsy while tip-toeing the boy would have a better chance of going unnoticed by simply walking. "Why are you still awake, Carth?"

"I tried," her son said as he came into the kitchen. "I just couldn't sleep."

She nodded. "You're going to be miserable in the morning, you know."

"Yeah." He took a seat at the table. "I know."

"And you're going to school no matter how tired you'll be," she said.

"I know." He sighed and raked his hands through the tufts of wild brown hair on his head. "When's Dad coming back?"

"Four days." A weekend husband. Weekend father. Never in her life would Val have ever said that was a wise decision, but at the moment letting Eyan commute so they could afford an actual house instead of an efficiency seemed like the best option. In the long run, at least.

At present, her eldest had decided the new family arrangement meant an imminent divorce and would put aside any conversation in favor of icy glares. Little Tam was no better with the way he would come home from school with torn clothes and bruises as he announced that he'd gotten into a fistfight with one of the schoolgirls like it was something to brag about. And then there was Carth.

He'd never been much of a troublemaker. But his grades had skyrocketed since the move. Under normal circumstances, a good thing, but Val was beginning to suspect that all the time Carth had been putting into his schoolwork would've been spent socializing and making friends back on Corellia.

She'd decided she'd give him a month to ease into things before she pulled out the any characteristic overbearing, worrywart mother moves. Unfortunately, that had so far turned into her obsessively marking off days on the calendar. Eighteen more days and Psycho Mom could emerge to nag her son into opening up to her.

"That's a long time," Carth said.

"It's only four more days." In a row. Then they had two days as a family, followed by another five days, repeat as necessary. She had a gut feeling that Arod would be counting precisely how many days of fatherless time he endured so that he could try to use it as a bargaining chip in the future. She was also of the feeling that she just might let Arod have whatever he wanted, so long as he only thought less of her and not his father.

"That's a really long time," Carth murmured.

"Yeah." Val opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of blue milk. "But it'll make the weekends that much more precious."

"I guess." The boy had her eyes. But where she and her eldest had spent their tiny lifetimes perfecting steely gazes, Carth preferred to let his sincerity shine through them. Right now, they just looked sad. "Mom? Will we ever get to go home again?"

She poured a glass of milk and set it in front of him. "Carth, we moved."

"We could always move back." By the way his voice trailed up at the end, she was certain he knew he was reaching.

"We could," she said. "But we're not going to."

"I know." Carth frowned.

"It's going to be tough." Val pulled up a seat beside him. "It's tough for me, too. But you know, you're going to get used to this place soon and then it'll be home and Corellia'll be the weird place."

He looked up at her with those big brown eyes. Her eyes. He was using her eyes against her. It made her want to laugh. The expression on his face told her that he thought she was insane. "Okay."

Maybe he was right; maybe she was crazy. Children would do that to a person. She smiled. Tomorrow she could cross off another day on the calendar and then it would be seventeen days before concerned, nagging Psycho Mom made an appearance. Sixteen if she was feeling really anxious about his behavior. "You need to get to bed. I'm going to wake you up in less than seven hours."

"I need to drink my blue milk, first." His fingers played with the perspiration on the glass.

Val just raised a single eyebrow. That sent Carth gulping at the milk as fast as he could.

When he finished, he set the glass clattering down on the tabletop. She nodded. "Bedtime, sweetness."

"Night, Mom." And under her steady gaze, he trudged away from the table and up to bed.

She wondered if anything took. He hadn't seemed too impressed with their little chat and the one thing a body could never account for in terms of childrearing was a child's personality. She supposed that sometimes the most she could do was be consistent and hope like hell she was a decent enough person to provide an example for her sons.

And for all their quirks, they were really good boys. Whether it was Arod trying to guard his younger brothers from their parents' imaginary divorce or Carth's willingness to put everyone before himself. Or even Tam making his mother a bouquet out of the neighbor's flower garden. Their intentions were always well-meant. That was more than Val could say for some other peoples' children, but then she had to admit that she was biased.

It wasn't like she could help it that her boys were simply better than anyone else's. Val snickered as she flicked off the lights and headed to bed.


	2. Marriage

A/N: While I am sticking to chronological order, _Telos_ will be more or less a series of loosely connected shorts than chapters to a story. Enjoy.

* * *

"I can't stop sweating. There's got to be huge rings under my arms by now."

"You're fine."

"Where's Tam?"

Arod snorted. "I told him to go check on the bridesmaids and tell them they have an hour left."

"An hour?" Carth rubbed at his face. "That long?"

"It'll be over before you know it," Arod said. "Relax and enjoy it."

"I'm trying to." Carth slumped down into a chair. "This bowtie's not working out. I know it's my hands more than anything else."

"Wasn't it Morgana that said she'd marry you even if you just walked down the aisle in nothing but a loincloth?" Arod asked. His dark eyes were trained on the frost on the window.

"Yeah, but I've got to save something for the honeymoon." Carth chuckled. "I should've just used a clip-on."

"You could have," Arod replied. "If you wanted to look like an asshole."

Carth frowned. "Tam's wearing one."

His older brother smirked. "Yes and Tam is a...?"

Carth just laughed.

They were interrupted by a hurried knock that preceeded the door being flung open and Tam hurrying into the room. He slammed the door shut and faced them with a huge grin. "I forgot to knock. Mo's sister chucked a shoe at my head. It was hot."

"And here's the asshole, himself," Arod commented.

Tam took a quick bow, his shaggy head of hair falling over his blue eyes as he did so. "Thank you, thank you."

"Tam, give me your clip-on," Carth said. "Otherwise, I'm afraid I'm going to strangle myself with this one."

"Don't you dare," Arod said sharply. "Here, I'll do it. You can afford to be an imbecile later, but you owe it to yourself to make the pictures look good at least."

"Thanks, I don't know what I'd do without you," Carth said. He stretched his neck up so that his brother could tie the bowtie into place.

"Oh, I have an idea," Arod murmured. "Eating dinner cold out of a can? Thankfully Morgana has more sense than that."

"Hey!" Carth laughed. "I don't eat trash straight out of a can."

"But I would," Tam chimed in. "Is it those noodles with the little bits of nerf sausage? Because really, they come precooked so there's no reason to heat them up."

"Whenever I think you can't be any worse off, he proves me wrong." Arod shook his head. "Tell me how that looks."

"And to be honest, I think they actually taste better cold..." Tam continued.

Carth stood up and walked over to the mirror on the wall. "Not bad," he said after a moment's inspection. "Thanks, Arod."

"My pleasure," Arod replied. "Just remember, you have to walk down the aisle by yourself. I mean, unless you want me to hold your hand?"

"During the reception, we're going to string Arod up as a pinata," Tam announced with a broad grin.

"There's an idea," Arod snorted. "But I'm going to have to go with a no on that one."

"I bet your head is filled with delicious candy," Tam snickered.

"That's it," Carth said. "No pinatas. Not at my reception. End of story."

"How about during the wedding, then?" Tam asked. "During the vows, we can lower Arod from above using cables."

Carth shook his head. "I'm not even married yet and already you're setting me up for a divorce."

"And that's why I'm the best man," Arod said.

"That's just because you're respectable." Tam snatched his engraved flask from the dresser and displayed it with an elaborate wave of his hand. "It is my duty, however, to find a lonely bridesmaid and befriend her. You think Mo's sister is single?"

Arod cringed. "You're practically related."

"Only in an hour," Tam replied. "For now, she's a perfectly lovely aquaintance. In a pale yellow dress. Who decided on that boob cut for the tops, by the way?"

"On the upside, what he says won't be recorded in the pictures," Arod muttered.

"Alright, this stops right now." Carth wrenched the flask out of Tam's grip and pushed it on Arod. "You need to loosen up. And Tam?"

Tam met his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Try to hold it in until everyone's had a couple drinks in them," Carth said. "Full-blown Tam can be startling to the unsuspecting masses."

Tam offered a bow. "I'll be good," he said. "Promise."

Carth raised an eyebrow. "Arod?"

"I'm always good," Arod replied.

Carth exhaled. "Thanks for being here," he said. "Both of you. I don't think I could've done this without you guys."

"Mo'd kick your ass if she heard that," Tam commented.

"Tam," Carth hissed.

"Well, she would," Arod said.

Carth exchanged a look with them both. "Yeah, well, don't tell her then."

"Cross my heart." Tam placed a hand over his heart.

Arod nodded. "Deal."


	3. Funeral

It was technically spring. Everyone had wanted to leave their jackets at home, but with the little bit of frost still on the leaves, it was too chilly for that. Carth opened up his jacket and tried to wrap it around his wife as he held her. The unbuttoned flaps managed to cover her arms, but the swell of her stomach stuck out far past the warmth of his jacket.

The grass looked so dark and so green. Everyone was there, their names carved neatly in the little stone plaques in the ground. Gramps and Nana side by side, Granddad and Grandma were farther up the hill next to the uncle he'd never met. Down the hill, Tam was drunk and blubbering next to Arod. Carth was content to nuzzle his face into Morgana's shoulder while she ran a hand over her belly.

"How're you doing, baby?" she asked.

"Okay," he said. "How's that baby doing?"

She smiled. "He's great. Just fine."

"Yeah?" He gently turned her around to face him.

Morgana took a step forward, but her belly bumped into his and forced a distance between them. She laughed softly. "Yeah. But your brother's a wreck."

"He was the baby," Carth said. "He and Mom, they, well... yeah."

"She was your mom, too." She took his hands in hers. "You want to go talk to him?"

"In a little bit." Carth wished Tam hadn't chosen that week to cut all his hair off. It made it too easy to make out his brother's expression even as he tried to bury it in Arod's jacket. It was one thing to be able to hold everything together when you had your wife there holding your hand, but Carth had a feeling if he went down to his brothers, everything Tam was feeling was going to make entirely too much sense to him. He had no idea how Arod managed to be so stoic.

It wasn't like they hadn't seen it coming. Not like Dad, whose heart just gave out unexpectedly; who spent a day in the hospital braindead before Mom felt ready enough to stop the life support. She'd been sick for a long time. At first, it had seemed like a kinder death sentence. Spread out like that, she had time to give old photographs and holograms away to the proper family members and she could really spend time with the people she loved.

But as time went on, Mom's face would get grayer and more ashen. And the treatments made her lose her appetite so she wouldn't eat and regain any strength she may have lost. Near the end, Carth was sick of that hospital smell, of that asinine futility of just sitting back and watching someone die. When her hair started to fall out, Tam began to grow out his.

Tam, that poor bastard, he actually convinced himself that she was going to get better.

"She was an amazing lady," Carth said. He sure as hell wouldn't have had the strength to plan out his own funeral. He had to leave the room the one time she asked him what color fabric he thought should be on the inside of her coffin.

"Yeah, she was." Morgana gave his hand a squeeze.

He sighed. "I just wish Dustil would've gotten the chance to know her."

"He will," she said. She had that look in her gray eyes that said it was no use arguing. No use saying it wasn't the same thing.

Carth glanced over his shoulder and down the hill. "I think I'm going to go check on Tam."

Morgana nodded. "Good. Can I borrow your jacket until then?"

"Take it." He shrugged out of it and slipped it over her shoulders.

"Thanks," she said as she pulled it around herself. "This dress was a bad idea. I'm looking like a baby ronto in it."

He snorted. She was cute and fat and pregnant with his son. Their son. He wasn't sure where she got off calling herself a ronto, but he felt guilty for smiling.

Carth kissed her cheek. "I'll be right back."

"It's not- it's just not right," Tam was saying as Carth walked down. He seemed to be in danger of crushing Arod's lanky figure, but their older brother was talking it in stride. "I mean, it's like we're orphans, now."

"Maybe we should get you home? Sober you up?" Arod suggested as he shot Carth a relieved expression.

Carth forced a quick smile to his lips. "Hey. How're you holding up?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Arod said.

Carth clapped a hand around Tam's shoulder. "Hey, Tam."

Tam rubbed at his face with the heels of his hands. "Hey."

"Nice day," Carth murmured. "Nice and crisp."

"Mom would- she'd want to be buried by Dad." Tam nodded like they had just decided on it. Like that wasn't what the past three days was spent arranging.

"She would," Carth agreed.

Tam looked over at him with red-ringed eyes. "I thought you would've been more upset by this."

"I am--"

"She's not hurting anymore," Arod said softly. "That's a good thing."

It was weird. After everything had dragged out for so long, all of a sudden it felt too fast, too soon. Carth could go through the motions, dress up nice, put on that dark jacket, trudge out into the eerie silence of the early afternoon. It felt just like any other day.

There was that feeling gnawing at the back of his mind that while everything was okay and fine today, it was because it hadn't hit him yet. That in a day or a week or even a month from now he'd find himself lying awake in bed and it would just dawn on him. He'd miss his mother and there wouldn't be a damn thing he could do about it.

Maybe Tam had the right idea about things.

"How about we, uh..." Carth cleared his throat. "There's a bar nearby, right?"

"Nips," Arod said.

"Why don't I drop Mo off at home after this and we can meet up there?" Carth said.

Tam ran a hand over his cropped hair. "I should head home."

Carth shook his head. "You should go to Nips," he said.

"I'll just get drunk and cry some more." Tam inhaled a deep breath and started to pat down his front pockets for a handkerchief.

"I know." Carth slung an arm around his brother. "That's the point."

"We'll probably make a scene," Arod said. He crossed his arms at the slight breeze.

"Better than doing it at home all by ourselves," Carth replied.

Tam nodded. "Okay."

"It's a date," Arod said. "First round's on me."

"First round," Carth snorted as he leaned close to Tam's ear and lowered his voice. "I think that's an open invitation to stiff him with the bill."

It didn't get the raucous laughter that it normally would have, but Tam smiled. Carth gave the other man's shoulder a quick pat before he headed back up the hill to his wife. It was a start.


	4. Birth

"What are you talking about? Mo, he's beautiful." Carth held out all three and a half kilograms of his four day old son and stared at the boy's face. Little Dustil graciously chose to sleep through the endeavor.

"Yeah, now he is," Morgana said. She leaned back on the couch and pulled her feet in beneath her. "But when he was born, his nose was huge. I was afraid we were going to have to love him more." She paused. "Or invest in rhinoplasty."

"But it went down?" Carth asked.

She snorted. "Yes, it went down. I'm still waiting for my swelling to go down, though. I swear, sometimes I stop moving, but it feels like the rest of me keeps rippling."

"You got to stop there, Mo. That's information I don't need to hear." He settled his son against his chest. "You sound upset."

"The flowers you sent were nice," Morgana said. "What kind of roses were they, again?"

"The kind you chucked out immediately, I think," he replied. "I tried to get back in time, I really did, you know that. But I was three planets away and you were early–"

"Dustil and I had a long discussion about that." She smoothed the hem of her oversized tunic. "About how inconsiderate he was for arriving before the due date. He's grounded."

Carth exhaled. "Oh wow. You're really mad."

"Mmm hmm."

"And there's no way I'll ever be able to make this up."

"Mmm hmm."

"I am so screwed."

"Mmm hmm." Morgana glanced over at him. "I don't know what to do, Carth."

"I'm mad, too." Carth ran a thumb across the infant's cheek. "I thought I had everything worked out. I arranged for the paternity leave and maybe the transit shuttle was late or I should have begged to be let go earlier or maybe–"

His wife raised an eyebrow.

"Or maybe I shouldn't have been such a damned idiot," he said.

She shifted in her seat and pressed her chin against his shoulder. "Next time, I think you should give birth. Let me be the one that gets to send flowers."

"I'm so disappointed." Carth sighed. "I let you down. I let me down."

"Well..." Morgana adjusted the baby blanket wrapped around their son. It was dotted with little pink conch shells. For some reason, the blanket pattern made Carth swell with an irrational irritation. "It's done and you can't change it. No use wallowing in what could have been."

Carth pressed his lips against her temple. "That look in your eye makes me very, very nervous, Mo."

"I'm still going to be pissed off at you." She yawned as she leaned into him. "Can't help that."

"So if I try to make it up to you..."

"You can't."

Carth nodded. "So if I try, you'll just get more pissed off."

"Hurt, you asshole." Morgana pushed herself away from him. The baby started to fidget in Carth's hands. "You get to skip away hand in hand with Saul Karath and stick me with this? What happens when Dustil starts asking me questions that I don't have the answers for? Why isn't Daddy here? Gee, I don't know, but at least he cared enough to be there when you were born... oh wait, scratch that. It's not even my birth and I'm phoqing furious."

"Now's probably a bad time to say that if he starts asking questions the day that I leave he'll be pretty damn precocious, huh?" Carth said weakly.

She made a small, frustrated noise in the back of her throat.

"Bad joke," he said.

"I should blow out your knee with a blaster," Morgana said. "That way you won't be able to go back."

"Or run away from you," Carth added.

She frowned. "You're trying to run away?"

"Of course not!" He groaned. "Look, you're just trying for a fight now, aren't you?"

Morgana rubbed her temples. "No, I'm trying to resolve this. I just want to sulk and be miserable for a while, but that's not a way for people to deal with things so work with me, alright?"

The strained, mewling cries from the baby felt like a reprieve. Carth tried to sooth his son, but looked to his wife when the crying wouldn't stop.

Morgana had snuggled back into the couch cushions. "He's probably hungry. You should learn how to breastfeed so I can take a nap."

"Somehow, I don't think that's possible." Carth began to rock the infant. It didn't seem to be working.

"Here." She held her arms out. "Let me have him."

Carth handed Dustil over to Morgana and she slipped the boy beneath her top and towards her breast. After a pregnant pause, her head lolled back on the couch cushion and she spared Carth a glance.

"Do you know that they have classes to teach you how to do this stuff?" Morgana nodded towards her chest.

"A class that teaches you an instinct?" Carth draped his arm across the back of the couch. "Don't tell me you went."

She smirked. "I decided that if Dustil was hungry enough, he'd figure it out on his own."

"You don't mean that."

"It's harder than it looks," she said. "I don't know what I'm going to do if he thinks it's funny to start biting."

"Okay, if you get any more graphic, I'll know you're doing it just to torture me," Carth said.

"Maybe." Morgana pulled Dustil out from under her top and let him rest in the crook of her arm. "Does this mean you don't want me to explain the practical applications of a breast pump?"

"Who do you think he looks like?" Carth asked. He nudged the blanket away from his son's face.

She frowned. "You mean with the swollen nose or after it went down?"

He raised an eyebrow. "It made that much of a difference?"

"Yes." Morgana lifted Dustil up so they could better inspect him. "With the nose, he looked like Ms. Jessu, my old primary school teacher. Dewback of a woman with BO."

"Nice way to talk about your son," Carth said. "What about now? His eyes kind of look like yours."

"I think he looks like Dustil." She shifted the baby back to her arm. "I'm still skeptical about the nose, but I think he has your mouth. The spit up is definitely his own thing, though. I know I had nothing to do with that."

He let his hand rest on her knee. "So what now?"

She wrapped Dustil's hand around her forefinger. The baby immediately brought it to his mouth. "You get to make me caffa," Morgana said. "The real, caffeinated kind. And if my father comes over and tries to take some holo-recordings while I'm wearing what I slept in with unbrushed teeth, kindly show him some pain."

Carth groaned. "Is he really coming over?"

"Do you honestly think he'd tell me if he was?" Morgana asked. "But damn the Force if we aren't here should he decide to stop by." Her mouth twisted. "How do you think he would react if you asked him if he knew if taking up a spice habit would affect my milk?"

"Oh sure, I'll just ask him that." Carth rolled his eyes as he stood up. "That's not funny and you know it."

"I guess you're right."

His wife was watching him closely. They exchanged glances and he glowered at her.

They both started to laugh.

"I'll go get that caffa," Carth said.

"You do that." Morgana nodded. "I'll still be mad at you when you get back."

"Sure, gorgeous," he snorted. "I'm not trying to make up for anything, either. This caffa is just out of the goodness of my heart."

"If your heart was really good, it would go out and get some doughnuts." She smiled.

"Easy, easy," he laughed. "Let me get out of my uniform first, alright?"

Morgana stretched her legs out and yawned. "I'm not going anywhere."


	5. Birthday

Their house was definitely too small. It had started out simple enough with Marnie arriving and rushing into the kitchen to help her big sister out. Then Arod showed up and lurked alongside the wall. Everything was still manageable.

It was Tam. It always seemed to be Tam.

The front door flew open and the dewback of a man made his entrance, his braided hair swinging back and forth like a whip. He tossed his gift on the couch next to Carth, located his nephew and swept the birthday boy up in his massive arms.

"Congratulations on your second birthday," Tam told Dustil. "You are now officially terrible."

Dustil, for his part, stared at his uncle for a good five seconds before he started screeching for his mama. Morgana came hurrying out of the kitchen and hoisted her son away from Tam.

"I understand you're excited about having a new peer," she said as she smoothed Dustil's hair back. "But you have to play nice or you can't play at all."

Tam was visibly hurt. His brows furrowed and his lips pulled back into a grimace. "I scared him?"

Morgana set the boy down and Dustil went scrambling off. "He'll get over it."

"But will Tam?" Arod asked.

Carth felt himself shaking his head. He placed Tam's gift on the caffa table.

"Tam Onasi is here?" Marnie called from the kitchen. She walked out with her hands on her hips. "And we didn't hide our women and children?"

"Marnie!" Tam grinned and dropped a hand to his heart. "My love! It's been too long."

She pointed a finger at him. "You! Stay away." Marnie lifted her arm to showcase the woven wedding band around her wrist. "My husband says I'm not allowed to go anywhere near you."

Tam laughed. "Smart man. He and I are still on for that duel for your undying affection, right?"

"That battle's been fought and won, sweetheart," Marnie replied.

"Yeah, but you haven't told your husband yet that I was the winner." Tam grinned.

Marnie rolled her eyes. "Mo, tell your brother-in-law that I'm going to throttle him."

"Don't," Arod said. "That's precisely what he wants."

"As charming as all this is," Carth said. "This get together's not for Tam. It's for Dustil. Right, D-Man?" He glanced to his son who had taken refuge at his feet with a toy starship. "Tell them. It's all about you, isn't it?"

Dustil looked at his father for a moment, before the boy let out a loud raspberry. He went back to playing with his model starship.

"Well, that was apt," Arod commented.

"He likes starships?" Tam asked before he planted himself on the carpet right next to Dustil. "That's awesome. He should open his presents. Now."

"Well, we were going to have some snacks first and settle in..." Morgana began.

"Please?" Tam stretched his eyes open as wide as they'd go and patted Dustil on the head. "We love presents, don't we Dustil?"

Morgana's lips thinned as she stared at Tam. "If you've gotten him something horrible, so help me..."

"Here," Arod said. He handed her a small package. "I have no idea what he bought, but am positive this will help, regardless."

Morgana glanced at the package and rolled her eyes before she tossed it to Carth. Ear plugs. Carth wasn't sure if the right thing to do was laugh, but he laughed anyway.

Dustil and Tam appeared to have reconciled in the meantime. The boy seemed fascinated with a leftover box stuffed with shredded wrapping paper, while Tam was engrossed in putting together his nephew's new interdictor ship. The smells that emanated from the kitchen were sweet and Carth was snug, sinking into the couch cushions. With the pleasant bustle around him, he was cozy and content.

After having long conversations with his wife on the pros and cons of sailor suits and why the cons clearly outweighed the pros, he was relieved to see that she did not in fact purchase one for their son. Of course, that's what her sister was there for. Marnie even thought to include a matching hat for the damn navy blue ensemble.

Dustil was unimpressed. But the boy had an oversized interdictor ship to play with and Uncle Arod got him... well, Carth wasn't exactly sure what his brother got his son, only that it lit up with flashing lights and would make a repetitive weird noise. The jerk did have the foresight to include earplugs, so Carth was prepared to look the other way this time around.

Because they opened presents first, Dustil was far too attached to his new ship when Morgana came out with the cake. He refused to let go of the ship and as a result, its maiden voyage was into the chocolatey depths of cake and frosting. Casualties were heavy as the group tried to find pieces that hadn't been mauled by a two-year-old. A bath later, Dustil was in bed and Arod had slipped out to make the next shuttle to Alderaan, while Marnie was helping put food away. Tam was still on the carpet fiddling with the model ships.

Morgana sat down on the couch next to Carth and draped her legs across his lap. "Are we spoiling Dustil?"

"Maybe just a little bit," Carth replied. "But I think his uncles are doing a better job of it than we are."

"Tam does realize that the toys are Dustil's, right?" she snorted.

"He'll get over it." Carth threw his arm around her pulled her closer.


	6. 181 Days

"This again? Mo, do we need to go through this every single time I have to leave?"

"Nothing's changing, Carth. I don't have a husband, I have some weekend flyboy that's here today, gone today."

Once upon a time there was a boy. He'd always been your average boy, but deep down, he knew he was special...

Dustil frowned at the datapad. What happened next? Stories always began with "once upon a time" and they always concluded with "and they lived happily ever after." Stories never consisted of cycles of sending the kid to bed so the adults could "discuss" things.

Discussion never involved screaming or crying. Dustil knew this because he looked up the definition.

"I have a responsibility--"

"You're damn right you do and here you are walking out on it."

"It's a job, Morgana. I go to work, I get paid, we spend it on the mortgage. You have a job, too."

"My job is mother. I get that. The social work's an extra paycheck, but I know what comes first."

Once upon a time there was a boy. He'd always been your average boy, but deep down, he knew he was special. Not just special in the way that sometimes, if he wanted something small like a writing stylus, it would roll over to him without him having to get up. But special, special. He knew that someday, despite the rancor that would show up and ravage the planet for two weeks every few months or so, he'd survive, he'd do something meaningful, he'd change things.

"Who are you out there saving, Carth? What's out there that's more important than me?"

"That's not fair! Now you knew exactly what you were getting into when you married me."

Dustil stretched out a hand and the stylus to the datapad floated into it. It was a weird little tickle whenever things like that happened. He'd tried to show it to his father last time he came home, but his dad just thought it was some game Dustil was playing at. He snorted. Only little kids played stupid imaginary games like that.

What would the boy's name be? Dustil sounded a little too whatever. The boy couldn't be a nobody loser that scrawled things into a datapad because when you scrawled things into a datapad, you could always erase the things you didn't like. He needed a real name, like Lord Doominator, only less evil sounding. Maybe Mr. Awesome or Dr. Pirate. Doctors were rich and everyone knew that pirates were awesome. Pirates always kicked the snot out of the Republic fleet.

"It's not about me! You have a son, now. That's an obligation, a responsibility, a person that--"

"No. Don't you dare drag him into this because you're mad at me."

"Hello? He's in this, Carth, whether you like it or not. That's what I've been trying to get into your skull for the past how many years?"

Mom liked to stay calm and to keep her volume level. She said only morons tried to out-scream someone in an argument, because they didn't have the intelligence to discuss their stance. Usually the way Dustil would tell that he was making her angry was if she started talking really fast. How his father managed so easily to make the volume of her voice lurch upwards into strange little peaks was something of a mystery to him.

Dustil decided that a rancor would be the best choice for a villain, because rancors were ugly. Only instead of your average bone-crushing rancor, his rancors' teeth would leak venom and they'd be skilled enough to fly starships. An unfeeling, instinct-driven monster was horrifying in its own right, but giving that ruthless thing the ability to operate machinery just pushed it to the next level. Dr. Pirate Doominator would definitely have his hands full.

"I'm still here. I'm here right now. You're making it sound like I don't put in any effort whatsoever."

"I just got a note from one of his teachers. For their genealogy project, Dustil wrote an elaborate story about how his father, the great Admiral Carth Onasi died saving orphans during the siege of Sarapin."

"He thinks I'm an Admiral?"

Mom read that? Dustil was fairly positive that it was one of his finest works to date. The good Admiral had to stuff his intestines back into his torso with one hand and fire his blaster with the other. And while he lay, convulsing in a puddle of his own blood and the orphans wept, he had the peace of mind to utter, "Tell my boy he's the man of the house now," with his dying breath. Dustil wondered if maybe he should have included theme music. It would've definitely had to have been something slow and dramatic.

If he had music, he could use it to drown out the sound Mom was making. Sometimes, if he was bored, he would go out of his way to make the girl next door, Renny Gost, cry, because it was funny to see her face scrunch up, but it never felt right to hear his mother do it. The way his insides twisted up made him imagine that must be what it felt like to swallow broken glass.

He didn't so much feel like writing anymore as he felt like hitting something.

"Oh, Mo. Are you...? Don't cry, please don't cry."

"This is insane. I can't just-- something has to change."

"It's only 181 days."

"181 days?"

"Six months. That's nothing, we've done that before."

"I miss you."

From his bed, Dustil traced the wood paneling on his wall with his big toe. Rancors were good. When the time came, the boy who was really special after all would cut the rancor's heart out from its chest. The happily ever after would have to follow directly after that.

"We'll talk, I promise. Please don't cry, please don't cry, please don't cry..."


	7. Destruction

It was still weird to think about. He should have been cynical by now. Or at least be able to accept it enough to focus on the now. On the living people who needed him. On his son who was still alive, somewhere, no matter what anyone else said or thought.

He should have known. The medics should have known.

It was a self-centered thing, in retrospect. Running as fast as he could to the toppled remains of his home. It wasn't like it was the building with the most damage on the planet or there weren't other people with more demanding injuries.

Maybe that's why it had been fatal. It hadn't seemed life-threatening at the time.

Morgana had been so alert. She was breathing a little fast, but he rationalized that anyone would have been breathing fast if they just narrowly missed having the bulk of a house fall on them. She'd been lucky. She was supposed to be lucky.

So he'd stood her up and brushed her off. Medics rushed past and he felt momentarily selfish. There were people crushed under rubble, broken bones, bleeding inside and out, a planet's worth of agony and he was pushing tangled blonde hair away from a scratched cheek.

They'd talked. About silly things. A quick joke to prove to themselves that they could function before they both started to backtrack, both started to look for their son. There was a panic cold and building in the pit of his stomach and spreading outwards. At the time, he'd thought it had to do with Dustil and his pace sped up to the point that he was dragging Morgana along.

It was only when he glanced back and he noticed that her lips were turning blue that he realized his world was rapidly spinning out of control.

"Wait. Give me a minute, I just feel a little…" And then her legs wobbled and then she was in his arms and his voice felt hoarse, but he used it anyway.

The medics that seemed to be everywhere just minutes, even seconds, ago, had since vanished. When a single woman in an onslaught of carnage appears outwardly to only have some scratches, some bruises, she's easy to overlook.

So Carth screamed as loud as he could. And then she was dead and he kept screaming, anyway.

They tried to pull him away. Tried to tell him that the woman was dead and that he had a job to do. By that time he had her head cradled against his shoulder so he didn't have to see that expressionless look on her face and all he had to do was snarl, "my wife," to get them to back off and move along.

Morgana was still there, right in front of him and in one piece. His arms were around her keeping her safe. There was no way, it didn't make sense, he could still touch her, look at her, there was absolutely no way…

The autopsy listed cause of death as a ruptured aorta. He wasn't sure why it was important, but it felt like it mattered at the time. He should have felt grateful that there was a body to autopsy.

In the weeks that followed, the numbness faded away into a burn. He'd lie awake in bed, frantic, convinced that when he inhaled, he could smell her. The scent would linger just outside his senses and it was only when he curled up, fetal, would he realize that he was just smelling the laundry detergent on his own clothing.

At first, he refused to even consider the morgues. Then it was only if he was so drunk he could barely walk. After a time, it became some sick comedy of errors. On the upside, none of the unidentified male bodies aged approximately seven to fifteen were Dustil. But Dustil was still missing. They eventually had to bury all the John Does and Carth had to rely on things like DNA for answers instead of visual proof.

Not that any proof ever came his way. It was hope that seemed to cut deeper than any reality he could be presented with.

Three months into it, his brother chased him down. With the full beard and long hair, Carth wasn't sure if Tam was trying at Bohemian or hobo. His little, well, younger brother threw his arms around Carth and the two of them just stayed like that for a while. Carth didn't feel like talking; Tam didn't seem to know how to start up the conversation.

"What're you doing running away like a douchebag?" was what Tam finally came up with.

"I'm not running, there's a- it's just that there's a morgue here I haven't been to, yet," Carth said.

He didn't like the look Tam was giving. That dewback of a man wasn't supposed to ever have to take the role of nurturer. "Yeah, but we're on the complete opposite side of the planet. It's insane to think they'd have shipped him all the way here."

"Yeah?" Carth wasn't sure where the anger came from. He just needed to wake up.

"Not that he'd be there, anyway." Tam scratched at his beard. "We'll find him, Carth."

"When? I'm not finding anything standing here."

A long silence followed. Carth wasn't sure what he'd say if he was in Tam's position, he just wished his brother would say something. Something that made sense, something that could make everything better.

"Can I buy you a beer?" Tam asked.

"That's not—" Carth shook his head. "That won't fix anything."

"Didn't say it would." Tam clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "But I want to. Can I?"

"I don't know—"

"Carth."

Carth raked a hand through his hair. "Fine."

"Great. Let's go." Tam never seemed to have grown out of that awkward stage. His hands looked about as oversized as his grin. Carth couldn't help but wonder if he'd be able to smile back.


	8. Red

Carth needed an explanation.

Arod was all the way on the inner rim, it would have taken time to reach him. But a few months delay wasn't the same thing as two years. The silence ate away at Carth's nerves and any connection he could feel for his older brother was a fond memory. 

Here in the present, Arod was different. A stranger with his brother's face.

Carth had played out different scenarios in his mind. Arod had been run over by a speeder and was trapped in a hospital until he could regain the use of his legs. He was kidnapped by a tribe of mute Bothans. Or maybe, just maybe…

Maybe Arod was an asshole.

There was no speeder or hospital and Arod was safe and sound on Alderaan. Carth knew this because like an idiot, he couldn't stand the not knowing and hopped a flight there. He stood on the expensive stone walkway, banging on his brother's front door for a good fifteen minutes before a neighbor let him know about a gallery opening that Arod was visiting.

Carth had never understood Arod and his art. Bold blocks of color that a toddler could have made in his sleep. He always wanted to know what it was supposed to be, but Arod would insist that it was non-objective. Nonsensical was more like it.

The wine on the table at the door was cheap, but the cheese was good. Carth felt out of place with people in sophisticated dress as he hedged along the walls too thin for anything but paintings while he tried to ignore the musty smell of the carpet.

He didn't bother with the artist's statement. Maybe he should have. Arod Onasi. Husband, son, brother, painter. The paintings seemed to be entirely red. They appeared almost fun, with explosions of black paint or a stark white outline somewhere to contrast the vibrant color.

The man himself finally came into view around a corner, a plasteel cup of wine in his hand and his hair slicked back to the point of seeming greasy. Arod's eyes widened slightly as they connected with Carth's, but then his older brother was smiling like everything was fine.

"Carth. What are you doing here?"

The accent was fake. And Carth suspected that the smile was as well. He cleared his throat. "I need an excuse to see you now?"

"No, but an appointment would be nice." Arod's smile curled tight into a smirk. "How have you been?"

"Oh, you know." Wife dead. Son missing, presumed dead. It was all just fun and games, really. "What have you been up to?"

"Painting." Arod gestured to the exhibit with his free hand. "What do you think?"

Carth tried not to wince. "It's nice?"

"I knew you wouldn't understand."

"There's a lot of red," Carth said.

"Yes." Arod's eyes darted to his wine cup. "Look, I thought about calling. A lot."

"But you didn't."

"It was hard," Arod said. "It was easier to just think about it and then put it off."

Carth's hands clenched into fists. He didn't want to get upset, not like this, not in front of everyone, but the flash of anger was there. "Wait, let me get this straight. It was hard for you? Am I supposed to be sympathetic with that?"

Arod continued to walk and direct them down the corridors of the exhibit. "It's always been nagging at the back of my mind, Carth. I feel bad about everything."

"Well, you should." Carth crossed his arms over his chest.

"I have a daughter," Arod said. "I tuck her into bed every night. I keep trying to think about what would happen to me if... and I have absolutely no idea how to even begin talking to you."

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't talk to me period and you know it..." Carth blinked. "...You have a daughter?"

Arod nodded and took a sip of wine. "Maris. She's two."

"Oh."

"I meant to tell you," Arod said.

But then Telos had been bombed two years ago and everything had been flipped upside down. Was the act all for Carth's benefit or for Arod's pompous art society friends? Carth cleared his throat.

"Everyone comes to see this last painting here," Arod told him.

"Yeah?" It was probably just a painted square on a piece of canvas.

"Yes." Arod's dark eyes were on the wall in front of them. "It's called Telos."

"Telos?" Carth's insides twisted at the title and his stomach dropped away completely as he came face to face with the painting. "You--"

Carth found himself staring back at himself. The image was old, taken maybe six years ago. His arms were around his wife, their son was wedged between them and they were all grinning like idiots. Arod had taken the holo, transferred it to canvas and covered it in red paint. They'd been so happy then and now the only sign of that were the trace details in vein blue that fought against all that red. Carth wanted to throw up.

"You need to take that down," he managed to finally say.

Arod shook his head. "You don't understand."

"Take that phoqing thing down now," Carth repeated.

"I knew you wouldn't understand." His brother sounded sad.

"You are exploiting my wife and my child," Carth ground out. "You're banking on my life, Arod."

"I had a feeling you'd hate it." Arod's sips had turned into long pulls. His little plasteel cup was empty. "But you deal with things your way, Carth and I'll deal with them mine. You can't change that."

Arod was right. He couldn't. But what Carth could do was take the painting off the wall and put his fist through it. It felt sickly comical how being around family could revert them both to thirteen year olds.

Arod's gaze avoided the destroyed painting and stayed locked on his brother. "Feel better?" he asked.

"No, I don't," Carth said. "I need to, I think-- I'm just going to leave."

Arod shook his head and glanced at the chronometer on the wall. "I'm trapped here for another two hours, but let me buy you dinner afterwards."

"I'll pass," Carth muttered.

"Burgers and fries," Arod said. "No fancy, rich people food."

Carth raked a hand over his hair before he crossed his arms again. "I don't need your handouts."

His brother ignored him. "There's a place maybe a block from here called Girk's. I'll be there in two hours for a nerf burger smothered in cheese and bacon. I'd like you to be there, too."

"There's a lot of things I'd like that I don't get, too," Carth said. "This was a mistake."

Arod didn't say anything after that. He just took to staring at his painting with a hole punched into the middle. Carth just shook his head and hurried out of the claustrophobic corridors blanketed with loud paintings of nothing. He didn't like the looks he was getting from everyone at the exhibit. They could just sip at their plasteel cups of cheap wine and pretend like they could really see something worthwhile in painted blocks of color. Some people were actually trapped in the real world.


	9. Caffa

"She's beautiful." 

"I know."

"She looks just like Mom."

"I know."

Carth leaned back in his chair with his caffa mug. "You like to know a lot, huh?"

"I try," Arod replied. He seemed preoccupied with the ripples his caffa would make.

Carth passed the holos of his niece back to his brother. "Does Tam know about her?"

Arod nodded. "Yes."

"So it's only just me being left out of the loop, then."

"I'm an asshole, I get it," Arod sighed. He tapped a knuckle against the table. "You were never good with words, just punch me in the face, it'll be less painful that way. Get on with it."

"I'm not going to hit you," Carth said. "I just don't get why you'd tell Tam about having a baby, but not me."

"I didn't tell him right away, either, she was probably six months standard by that time. Her mother and I were going through a little..." Arod waved a dismissive hand. "I just didn't want any congratulatory pats on the back without knowing what was going to happen with that, first."

"Oh." Carth frowned. "Well, what happened with that?"

Arod took a long sip of caffa. "Let's just say that I got Maris and my wife and her boyfriend got the house."

Carth blinked. "You're still married?"

"A technicality," Arod replied. "We do it for our daughter, of course and not because there was no prenup."

"You know that Tam is finally married now, too?" Carth cleared his throat and refilled his mug of caffa.

"I heard that," Arod said. "I'm afraid to ask if it's to some stripper."

"It's Marnie."

"Marnie?" Deep creases appeared above Arod's brow as he thought. "Oh."

"Yeah," Carth said. "He says her kid still hates him, though."

Arod stared at his mug a long moment before he finally murmured, "I could see that."

"It's not like he's trying to replace the kid's father or anything." Unsure of what to do, Carth sipped his caffa and swallowed despite it being cold.

"It's tough," was all Arod would say.

"A support beam went through her leg," Carth blurted out. "She almost bled to death."

Arod just looked at him.

"She looks good, though," Carth continued. "I mean, on the first anniversary of... well, I guess she didn't leave her room for three days, but you know."

"It's tough," Arod repeated.

Carth exhaled. "Yeah."

"Do you hate me?" Arod asked. "Not all the time, but sometimes?"

Carth stared at his brother until he felt the mug in his hand begin to slip. With that thin face and those sharp features Arod always looked more like their father than their mother. "What are you talking about, Arod?"

Arod shrugged, too proud to meet the other man's gaze. "I think you probably should. I asked Tam that same exact thing and he said no right away. It made me feel like punching him in the back of his head."

"That's just Tam…"

"Yes, yes, we know he has a very punchable head." Arod's eyes darted over the holos in his hand before he stuck them back into a shirt pocket. "But everyone got hit and I was here on Alderaan safe."

"You were on Alderaan for years," Carth said. "Tam was off planet, too."

"But he's supposed to be."

"He's supposed to be?"

Arod shook his head. "I should look after you guys. Nobody should have been on Telos, it was a horrible place, that's why I've been on Alderaan for as long as I have. But I left everyone else there."

"You didn't know it was going to be—"

"Of course I didn't," Arod cut in. "But I knew it was a decrepit little backwater hell that I left as soon as I was able."

Carth's jaw tightened. "It was home, Arod."

"So you're happy you stayed there?" Arod asked. "You're happy that your wife is dead? You're happy that your son is—"

"You don't know that."

Arod's eyes went down to the check pattern on the tablecloth. "Sorry."

"There was no body. I submitted DNA and got nothing in return, I just, I mean, I know…"

"What?" Arod still wouldn't look at him.

Carth sighed. "I don't think I'm going to see Dustil ever again. Just that he doesn't have to be dead if there's no proof."

"I suppose," Arod murmured.

"Yeah." Carth shoved his drink away like it was a beer mug instead of a caffa cup.

Arod's eyes followed his brother's hands. "So what do you think you're going to do once you leave Alderaan?"

Carth shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe reenlist. See if somebody needs me."

"Do it," Arod said. "It'll be good for you."

"You think?" Carth swallowed. "Maybe it's too soon. I don't know, I don't want to make things worse."

"You're not supposed to be the stupid brother." With his eyes still downcast, Arod's mouth curled into a smirk. "Go be the hero. You're going to lose your mind without the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders to keep you grounded."

"We'll see," Carth told him.

"You'll see," Arod replied. "I already know."

Carth rolled his eyes as he stood. "I'll give you a call as soon as I'm planetside."

Arod's smirk spread into a genuine smile. "Good."

"Give your daughter a hug for me." Carth pushed his chair in and walked towards the door.

"Yeah," Arod said. "Carth?"

"Yeah?"

Arod looked up. Two pairs of identically shaped eyes reflected near strangers at the other person behind that identical shade of brown. "I'm glad you came."

Carth nodded. "Me too."


End file.
